THOSE WHO are but waiting to die–
Who hang as birds on the wire
Waiting for history to expire–
Have they stopped to consider why
Come again day and season and year
Come again forest; come again fire
Come again fishhook and spear?
Hanging as they are, content to watch
But none will take the step across
To see the spark and risk the loss
If then things should onward march
Listless ones will take their place
Listless, waiting, click their claws
Listless eyes on the side of their face;
Do they then suspect that no end awaits?
Though they never take to flight
Nor strike iron for wrong or right
Just hungry eyes and crowding ingrates–
Searching below for a brightling stone
Searching in rapture of earthly delight
Searching but not finding their home–?
Does history for them eventually
Curl as ribbon across a blade
A bright ribbon, ring-round made
To delight what left or right may see
Those who have but one eye to give–
Those with wings who flight forbade–
Those who are but waiting to live?